Where Have We Come--A Story of Love, Loss and Family by Saz Vora

Author:Saz Vora
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance, love and loss, love story, family drama, Bollywood, South Asian, women's fiction, new adult, England, child loss, Indian Stories, South Asian Women's, British Asian, Grief, Bereavement, disability, sick child, Women Writers, loss and mental health, blended culture, diaspora, migrant kids
Publisher: Saz Vora
Published: 2020-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

WE WENT TO THE HOSPITAL for Amar’s two-week check-up yesterday and have some good news. He can digest his food, and the record we’d been keeping of his urine output indicates his kidney is functioning properly. Even the nurses commented on how he has grown. We have both noticed the newborn baby clothes fit him better. His face is rounder, and he even has a double chin on top of his double chin.

“Oh, let me see.” His beautiful eyes are lit up. He has walked in on me dressing after my bath.

“Where’s Amar?”

“He’s in the pram, Ree.” My expression is full of concern. “He’ll be fine for a few minutes. I love this,” he says as he strokes my huge belly.

“Don’t be silly, you’re only saying that to be nice,” I tell him. My body still looks like I’m three months pregnant and I’m annoyed my jogging hasn’t helped reduce the weight I’d gained.

“I love you, Ree.” His voice is gravelly.

“If you say it too much it doesn’t have the same meaning,” I reply. A glimmer of hurt dances in his eyes.

Every muscle in my whole body tightens. We have kissed and cuddled, but that is all I can cope with at the moment; the thought of anything more fills me with dread. Nik has tried to be gentle, but as soon as he touches me intimately, I feel pain. I don’t want this moment to turn into that again.

“Please, Nik, I don’t want to ... ”

“I just want to hold you. I miss it ... we don’t even have a bath together anymore,” he murmurs.

I relent and let him kiss my neck, the tops of my breasts, my flabby stomach; he gently sits me down on the bed and pulls off his T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. I can see that he is aroused.

“Oh God, Ree, help me.” He pushes me down on the bed and begins to kiss me softly at first, and then the kisses become persistent, incessant; he opens his eyes, and the creases appear around the edges. He lifts himself off and turns towards me, his head resting on one elbow.

“What’s the matter? When I hold your hand, you find an excuse to take it away. You don’t want to kiss me anymore. What have I done, Ree?”

“I’m just tired, Nik. These pills don’t help.” I point to the painkillers and the sleeping pills, using them as an excuse. If he isn’t aroused, then he won’t want anything from me. My life is centred on the care of my son; his wellbeing is all I can concentrate on. I can feel the small knots in my stomach. He has been left alone, no one watching him for five minutes. Anything can happen in that short time. He could stop breathing, and we’d be none the wiser. I pull myself out of bed, put on my clothes hurriedly and run down the stairs. I search in the pram. Amar is breathing, his chest rising up and down, and the relief that he is alive floods my body.

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